


If I Had A Heart

by ElevenGaleStorms, Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Earl!Aya is the new thing, Earl!Haytham, Fem!Arno Dorian - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElevenGaleStorms/pseuds/ElevenGaleStorms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492/pseuds/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492
Summary: Arno Dorian had been raised in West Frankia, under the rule of Emperor Charles the Great, as a simple servant to the de la Serres. When the norsemen begin to perform raids in the villages, Arno comes face to face with what she truly is.In England, the vikings under reign of Earl Amunet have been performing raids on villages in Wessex. As they begin to spread, King Aethelwulf and his Bishop move in to take down the norsemen.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun rose upon the village of Chamavi as it did every morning. Arno had made it a tradition to watch it, telling herself that it was so she wouldn't be late for her duties, but lately it had become for a much more apprehensive reason. There had been whispers that Norsemen were going deeper and deeper into Frankia. That they would come with swords and axes, leaving only death and burned villages in their way. That not even the strongest, most well-trained could survive against them.  _Monsters_ , was what some whispered, but Arno hadn't worried until the noblemen did. 

Elise would not tell much as the rising tension began to fill Versailles nobles. But then again, Elise was usually wary in informing Arno of matters involving the Norsemen. Despite how much Arno trusted and was close to her friend, she couldn't help but feel that there was a certain wariness- _concern_ -directed towards her.  _Your heritage does not define you_ , Elise had once said. Arno wished that both of them could truly take those words to heart.

She glanced down at her hands as she pondered these thoughts. The whispers, filled with fear and anger, told of hulking monsters with vicious, sharp teeth and hands that could crush a man's skull completely. But her hands were just like any other. They could not crush a man's skull nor were they roughened with calluses.

They were just normal. 

The long since hushed whispers about her  _father_ had been in question since the beginning. Alas, it did not matter, in the end.  _Rumors could be as harmful as the truth_ , Elise's father had once said.

Arno glanced up at the sun in the sky, and sighed before rising to stand. 

She would need to get started on the assigned tasks before meeting with Jean and the others.

* * *

Arno hummed with a tavern melody on her lips as she walked through the bustling village streets. The head servant had ordered her to purchase several jugs of the alcohol from the tavern. _Most likely for the_ _rumored guests_ , Arno thought. Although, Elise would most likely have little to tell her of it. The de la Serres were secretive in their business yet hospitable to their guests and servants. And for herself, that was enough.

She nearly laughed to herself at the idea of asking Elise about the guests, knowing that her friend would ask her about how she knew of it. Eventually, that would inevitably lead to Elise finding out about her errand to the tavern. _It's filled with debauchery_ , Elise would say with a disapproving look directed at Arno.

"And yet Versailles-" Arno was cut off by the sound of hurried footsteps and hollering. She was greeted by the sight of a haggard man, a farmer most likely, with bloodshot eyes. He stared at her with incredulity as he stumbled towards her. Could he be sick? The question lingered in her mind as he came closer and closer.

"Yes?" She questioned, stepping away as the man advanced towards her. 

Only one word fell from his lips that made her breathing hitch.

"Norsemen."

* * *

_England,_ she thought as the sight of the foreign shore came into view from the ship. It would not be her first raid in the strange land; the last had given her _parchment_ and _ink,_  ripped from the hands of an odd man,that she had used for her drawings, and there had been many beautiful stones there that she would get this time as her one item. This raid though wasn't one where she could focus on the odd items and metals as she had during her first time stepping foot there. 

During this raid, Maria would need to focus on Aguilar more than anything that she normally would as a shieldmaiden. She had been training him for the past year, pushing him to outstand the elements and weaknesses plagued upon their people, and if he was to fail upon his first raid-

 _The Gods will show favor._ That was what her father always said when he placed such time into a task and when it was for their people it was even  _better._

During the first raid in the land across the sea she had been ill-prepared. When Altaïr had spoken of the possibility she had not been convinced of such a thing even though the raids east had become more bare over the passing years and when she had followed the others onto the ship she had cursed herself when days had passed with nothing to bare. The thought of dying in the sea had not been how she had wanted to do, but just as she was about to curse the man they had finally found land. 

The Gods had still seen her for turning away her faith of such a thing, giving her a new scar across her stomach in return for the successful raid and return back to her home. 

Aguilar clenched the handle of his shield tightly in one hand, the other bracing against his sword, a false sense of readiness that she could read through from the moment he locked eyes with her. She could not offer him a sense of comfort in front of the others. She could only give him a space by her side as the ship scraped against the sandbank. 

"You will do well, Aguilar. There will be nothing in our way that can stop us."

* * *

Making their way into West Frankia had proven to be easier than expected although the Earl had been right in not overestimating the ones who lived beyond the bordering villages. Shay was leading the raids this year under the honor of being chosen by Earl Haytham, a first for being chosen over the more experienced Norsemen, but despite his appearance he wasn't one. 

When he had been no more than a boy on the wisk of being a young man he had been given the task of following a missionary from the local church. Doing so had involved sailing and travel, an adventure better than any he would experience in Ireland, but what he hadn't expected was the violence. The missionary had been struck by an arrow and before he could begin to run Shay had been taken. There had been a raid on a nearby village. Someone had spoken of them, the ones speaking of their God, and he had been lucky enough to have been spared that day. 

At first, he had been nothing more than a slave to a Viking named Haytham, who when the time came, became Earl through birthright. During those cold winter months he had trained him to be more than a slave. To be a  _freed_ man, a fellow Norseman who could fight with his bare hands if he had to, and by the time that the next spring had come he had gone on his first raid.

The raid had brought him back towards his homeland, a solemn thought, had it not been for the singular moment when he met his old friend on the battlefield. Shay had not expected to see him there; never had Liam spoken anything of traveling to Northumbria or any of the kingdoms in England. Only there was no time to ask question when his old friend swung the sword in the clear direction of his neck. They had fought until the sounds of metal against wood and dying men came to an end, but Shay was determined to be the one to make the last move. Cutting through the open spot not covered by chainmail until the man's blood drowned his hands. 

It became easier after that. Every raid gave more respect to the Gods, worth to his name, and an item that sat within his home or kept him steady before the winter. The only difference with this raid was that it would be his first one traveling south into Frankia. Shay had never seen a frank before, he hadn't even fought against one, but the others who had raided south had. It was the only set back that he saw within himself when he was given the honor of leading the raid. 

By the time dawn comes, they will be able to move into Frankia, striking at their villages and more larger towns. They would have success.

Shay would see to it. 


	2. they came, they saw, they conquered

The words hung in the air, its stench draining away, as cold, hard shock seeped into her being. Bloodshot eyes stared at her brokenly before their owner looked away.

“Where are you going?” Arno blurted out, a part of her already knowing what he was going to do.

The man didn’t even turn to look at her as he walked with delibiration and purpose in his very footsteps, “I am the herald.” he merely said.

Words Arno was going to say died in her throat at his words. She merely followed the man, her steps too were hurried and fast. Her thoughts fleeted from the rumors of norsemen to that of her friend.

 _Elise_ , she thought. There were guards in the estate, right? However, the hordes of rumored norsemen were said to have made quick work of the guards of outlying villages.

“What happened?” Curiosity was an tempting creature that gnawed away at one’s being. Arno was by no means exempt from this, as she questioned the pitiful man. This time, the man did glance at her, and Arno felt her mouth dry at his eyes. Haunted, they were like they saw the devil himself.

 _Demons_ , a voice in her mind whispered to herself.

Those eyes saw _demons_.

“They came, they saw, they conquered.”

* * *

The village square was as bustling as lively as ever, unknowing to the threats that lied beyond its borders. The man nodded to Arno lightly in acknowledgement before moving towards the town crier who stood loathe and behold on the wooden platform. The town crier stood still with eyes wide open before clearing his throat. The farmer stumbled off the platform, almost dragging himself, and situated himself within the crowd that paid rapt attention to the town crier as they waited for the day’s events.

The bell rang with clarity, and the bustling people of Chamavi slowed to a stop. Whispers and sighs filled the air as the newly formed crowd moved closer to the platform. Their eager, oblivious minds and ears were straining to just listen.

“Hear! Hear! Lo and behold, everyone. The Norsemen are to come-!” he cried out with voice loud.

Her steps hastened with his words as she knew what was to come. Arno had long since known that matters involving the norsemen in the village eventually was befallen onto her. If she could just reach Elise before the townspeople and norsemen came, then it would be fine.

 _Fine._ The word meant normality in the menial chores given to Arno and laughing with friends in the village tavern. It entailed watching the sun rise over Chamavi over and over again.

A part of her was still in denial of _norsemen_ coming to invade. Perhaps, the man could have been wrong. _And yet_ , Arno thought. She would rather have Elise be safe and informed than to be oblivious to the likely threat that loomed in the distance.

The estate was quite a length’s away from the village as it as maintained by its own servants and workers, some of whom lived in the village as did their families.

 _They don’t know_ , Arno thought worriedly. The truth biting in its realization as her feet carried her closer to _home_. The trees that concealed the estate from view slowly began to thin in the denseness of their foliage. 

“Filthy mongrel!” An outraged voice hollered at her. Arno sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the familiar insult. At this point, the village should have just decreed that her title would be ‘Arno the Mongrel’. Then again, a title would have been too luxurious for someone such as herself, of course.

It was only when the sound of other footsteps-most likely that of a companion to her _friend-_ came with peculiar, sudden silence and muffled noises did Arno turn.

_Norsemen._

Her heart dropped to her stomach as panic rose in her chest. She stumbled back, as her eyes were greeted to the horrifying sight of Norsemen wrangling the villager to the ground with ease.

It was almost instinctual and all too easy for Arno to throw herself against the tree closest to her. The wood was the only thing protecting her from the gaze of the invad-no _raiders_.

Despite the protection of the tree, Arno could still feel the dark, enraged eyes of the villager bearing down on her as the woman cried out. Finally, the hollers and squeals of the woman died down as she panted on the ground.

“That filthy little mongrel finally betrayed us,” The woman breathed against the ground as Arno’s chest constricted with her words, “I wonder how she led you to us.”

She laughed hysterically with bloodshot eyes that were as broken as the man who came to warn the village, “You can come out now, cur! You must want to be reunited with your kind, right?”

One of the norsemen stepped forward, almost sauntering really, “Mongrel?” The thick, accented word fell from a heavy tongue as the accursed word lingered in the air.

“ _Rakki,_ ” Another Norseman added, almost explaining if the pointing with the axe and explanatory tone proved anything.

A jumble of accented, foreign words were exchanged between the two raiders before their conversation suddenly stopped.

It was only when the axe pointed in her direction and the norseman approached with heavy footsteps did Arno resigned herself to what was to come. If she ran, Arno would only be leading them to the estate for the de la Serres and the rest to be slaughtered. Arno may be the village outcast, but she wasn't traitorous.

Arno felt hands grab her roughly by the arms and shoved her next to the village woman. The vindictive smile the woman had plastered on her face was of no surprise to Arno. Although, the sheer idiocy of the villager shocked Arno though.

She just wanted a distraction, she thought. A distraction that wouldn't be missed, a disposable one.

Footsteps came closer and Arno dared to look up at her captors.

" _Rakki._ "

* * *

The ground compressed against her boots as she stepped out of the boat. The air smelled different to her, yet all the same as it had the first time she had come during Altair's raid. Stepping further out onto the shore, Maria turned to look upon the many faces that had chosen to follow her raid upon England. Some had been on the first raid out west while others, like Aguilar, would be seeing these new lands for the first time. 

"Do not fall your blade or lower your shield so easily. Valhalla will not greet you if you do not earn it." Maria dropped her gaze onto Aguilar. A warning more than a promise that if he fails her, she will deal with him before any enemy could. His own glory during this first raid would rest upon her own whether if he succeeded or failed, and as someone much closer to her, she can only pray to the Gods that he comes out uninjured. 

Raising her fist, she gave the command that the raid would begin. During first time they had come to England, they had raided a small village where the priest lived. This time their goals were much larger and far more ambitious. A settlement that held high walls of stone had come to their knowledge and surely there would be something very valuable inside for it to be placed there. It was an unknown that had driven her to take on the leadership in this raid much to Altair's disdain. But she had more experience in being a mentor and leader than he. Making her the wiser choice when Earl Amunet had called upon them in the Great Hall. 

Aguilar moved beside her as they began to make the journey. His axe knocking into her sword whenever he would get to close. 

"This land is similar to our own, but strange. I don't think I like it." He spoke calmly, in a silent tone as they began to move through the forest that separated them from their target. 

Maria couldn't help to agree, the land was different, the buildings even more so, and above all else the people. There had been no women during the first raid nor had there been any sign of a child of any age. Women were not priests either; the ones they had taken as  _thralls_ had looked upon her as one does a nightmare. Even now though she had not bared eyes on them or any sign of them as they passed what was a farmer's home. "I agree. We are not here to stay though. We will be back home soon enough, with sagas and riches to tell before the Gods."

The small chatter quickly died as they came into distance of the stone walls. Fires were light somewhere behind them, there was no sounds of people though to even begin to listen to. Taking the rope and hook from Magnus before swinging it up and onto the other side. It took a few times before she got it to stay sturdy enough for them to climb over and once inside they could lower the door on their way out. "Be swift and when the time comes burn what is left." She ordered before beginning her own ascent onto the top of the wall. Instead of hitting solid ground, her boots made a loud thud against wood, a path of it surrounding the wall. There seemed to be not a single man or woman out guarding the place, yet fires were still burning in areas around what appeared to be homes and at the center of it all a large stone building. 

Aguilar followed after her, the others come down until Magnus finally dropped to his feet to undo the hook from its nesting place. "Move." Maria ordered, withdrawing her sword as they began to slink past the homes closest to the wall. It was only when she spotted a bridge that she saw two men. Both wearing black armor, carrying swords, and they had spotted her as well. 


End file.
